“May Mother Ganges Bless You Today”

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Дневник странствующего монаха – Том 15, глава 1

“Да благословит тебя сегодня мать Ганга”


Ever since becoming a devotee of Lord Krishna in 1970, I have been fascinated with the Kumbha Mela festival. This year I decided to join millions of other pilgrims in the journey to the Ardha Kumbha Mela where, from January 15th to March 4th, ISKCON devotees were to follow in Srila Prabhupada’s footsteps by bringing his books, the Holy Names and prasadam to the festival.

Kumbha Mela is the largest religious gathering in the world. Estimates anticipated that 120 million pilgrims—nearly double the population of England and France combined—would visit the Mela over seven weeks. The Mela takes place four times within a twelve-year period on the banks of four of India’s most holy rivers: the Godavari River in Nashik, the Shipra River in Ujjain, the Ganges River in Haridwar and the confluence of the Ganges, Yamuna, and Saraswati Rivers in Prayagraj (formerly known as Prayaga ).

This year’s Mela was to be held at the confluence site at Prayagraj. The point of convergence is called “Triveni Sangam.” Bathing in any of the sacred rivers has a purifying effect, but it is said that the purification is increased a hundred times at the sangam and a thousand times at the sangam during Kumbha Mela.

Srila Prabhupada writes:

“Bathing during the month of Magha at the Magha-Mela [Kumbha Mela] still takes place. This is a very old Mela (assembly), dating from time immemorial. It is said that ever since the Lord in the form of Mohini took a bucket of nectar and kept it at Prayaga, holy men have gathered there every year and observed the Magha-Mela. Every twelfth year there is a Kumbha-Mela, a great festival, and all the holy men from all over India assemble there. Bathing at the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna, near the fort at Allahabad (Prayaga), is mentioned in the revealed scriptures:

“maghe masi gamisyanti ganga yamuna sangamam
gavam sata sahasrasya samyag dattam ca yat phalam
prayage magha mase vai try aham snatasya tat phalam

“If one goes to Prayaga and bathes at the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna in the month of Magha, he attains the result of giving hundreds and thousands of cows in charity. Simply by bathing for three days there, he attains the results of such a pious activity.”

[ Caitanya Caritamrita, Madhya 18.145 ]

I had a special desire to attend Kumbha Mela this year as the main bathing day, February 4th, was on Mauni Amavasya, which creates a special tithi that appears only once every 200 years. However, my main motivation to go was to meet with the holy men Srila Prabhupada describes in his above purport, and to share with them the glories of Lord Caitanya and His movement of chanting the holy names which He inaugurated just over 500 years ago. My experience in India is that most people are aware of the 10 primary incarnations of the Lord—the das avatars such as Lord Ramacandra, Varaha, Kurma, Matsya and so on. But very few are aware of the avatar of this age, Lord Caitanya, whose appearance is predicted in ancient scriptures like Srimad Bhagavatam:

krsna varnam tvisakrsnam
sanopangastra parsadam
yajnaih sankirtana prayair
yajanti hi su medhasah

“In the Age of Kali, intelligent persons perform congregational chanting to worship the incarnation of Godhead who constantly sings the names of Krsna. Although His complexion is not blackish, He is Krsna Himself. He is accompanied by His associates, servants, weapons and confidential companions.” [ Srimad Bhagavatam 11.5.32 ]

The origin of Kumbha Mela is mentioned in the Vedic scriptures. It is stated that in bygone ages, the demigods and demons assembled together to churn the ocean of milk to produce the nectar of immortality. Mandara Mountain was used as a churning rod, and Vasuki, the king of serpents, became the rope for churning. The demigods took Vasuki’s tail and the demons his head, and they churned the milk ocean for one thousand celestial years. Among many other amazing things, a pot of immortal nectar was produced. The demigods were fearful that the demons would take advantage of it, so they stole the pot and hid it in the four places on Earth where the Mela is held. During the act of hiding, a drop of immortal nectar spilled from the pot at each of the four places. Kumbha Mela is held at the time when, according to astrological calculations, the immortal nectar is most readily available to those who bathe in the sacred rivers.

Approaching the festival site, we pulled over at a small hill that provided a panoramic view of the Mela. The magnitude of the site testified to the pilgrims’ enthusiasm to be liberated from the material world through contact with the nectar of immortality. Witnessing the vast landscape of tents, I was fascinated by the thought that so many people were coming simply for spiritual purposes.

Prabhupada said:

“At the Kumbha-Mela, millions of people come to take bath in the Ganges because they are interested in how to become spiritually liberated from this material world. They travel thousands of miles to take bath in the Ganges at the holy place of Prayaga.” [ Room conversation with Pusta Krsna das ]

From our vantage point on the hill, I could see thousands upon thousands of people pouring into the Mela. These people were prepared to travel long distances and tolerate many discomforts, including sleeping in austere conditions in very cold weather. Some arrived on overcrowded trains. Others came by bus, car and even ox carts. While the rich and famous flew into Prayagraj on chartered flights, the multitudes came on foot carrying all their necessities—food and a couple changes of clothes—in bundles on their heads. But whether rich or poor, everyone had the same agenda: to bathe in the sangam at the auspicious moment and attain passage back to the spiritual world. I could hear many people glorifying the Ganges with cries of “Ganga Ma ki jaya! All glories to Mother Ganges!”

Sastra supports their glorification:

nimna ganam yatha ganga
devanam acyuto yatha
vaisnavanam yatha sambhuh
purananam idam tatha

“Just as the Ganga is the greatest of all rivers, Lord Acyuta the supreme among deities and Lord Sambhu [Siva] the greatest of Vaisnavas, so Srimad-Bhagavatam is the greatest of all Puranas.” [ Srimad Bhagavatam 12.13.16 ]

I knew that as Westerners, we would be a tiny minority at the Mela, but we were not the first foreigners to take part by any means. A seventh-century diary written by Hiuen Tsiang from China mentions Kumbha Mela. He writes that he witnessed half a million people gather on the banks of the Ganges at Prayagraj to observe a celebration for 75 days. He even mentions that a king was present with his ministers, scholars, philosophers and sages, and that he gave away huge amounts of gold, silver and jewels to acquire pious credit and assure himself a place in heaven.

The current rulers of India, likewise, were taking part in the Mela by facilitating many of the logistical details. The government had been working on the services and accommodations for an entire year, and the statistics were mind-boggling. Over 6,000 religious and cultural organizations had been allotted land, including our International Society for Krsna Consciousness. The Mela site sprawled over 32 square miles, an area equivalent to a large town. There were 4,200 premium tents, 300 kilometers of roads, 122,000 toilets, 20,000 dustbins, 10,000 policemen and 30,000 military personnel. They had provided row upon row of simple tents for free accommodation. There were lost-and-found centers dotted throughout the Mela, intended mainly for helping people find their lost family members and friends. In 2013, thousands of people—mostly women and children—went missing in the huge crowds. The entire cost of this year’s Kumbha Mela was estimated at 400 million dollars.

There were many ashrams and camps distributing free food throughout the Mela, including our ISKCON camp. Overall, 5,384 metric tons of rice, 7,834 tons of wheat, 3,174 tons of sugar and 767 kiloliters of kerosene were allocated to the food distribution centers. 160 dispensers of clean drinking water were available throughout the Mela.

A 100-bed hospital and ten smaller hospitals staffed by 200 doctors and 1,500 health professionals were set up throughout the event. 80 practitioners of Ayurveda were also available. There were elaborate plans for waste management too. Every one of the 122,000 toilets were geo-tagged to help tackle any problems. Talk about organization!

Meeting India’s Spiritual Leader

It is generally very difficult to meet famous spiritual personalities in India due to strict security policies, but luck was on my side. My good friend Pundrik Goswami of the Radha Raman temple in Vrindavan invited me to stay with him at a camp where many of the principal spiritual dignitaries would be staying. It was called, Guru Karishni Camp, and was run by Swami Sharanandaji Maharaja, a prominent figure in Vrindavan. I considered this to be a golden opportunity to network with these personalities, most of whom would be unlikely to visit our ISKCON camp at the Mela or ISKCON temples elsewhere in India.

Once I arrived at the camp, Pundrik Goswami lost no time introducing me to the spiritual leaders present. His introduction followed a standard format: he would begin by glorifying Srila Prabhupada and explaining how he took Krsna consciousness to the West and how ISKCON has become a worldwide spiritual organization. Then he would introduce me and share some of the results of my service in different parts of the world. His introduction acted as an endorsement whereby India’s spiritual leaders gained confidence and respect for my humble self and, through me, Srila Prabhupada’s movement.

Over several days I had enlightening talks with numerous personalities. These included:

· Sri Ravi Shankar, the head of the Art of Living Foundation: I shared with him the work of ISKCON in communist countries like Russia and China. I told him of how Srila Prabhupada went to Russia in the 1970s and of the success of our movement there since that time. He was so touched that he gave me a beautiful silk chaddar as a gift.

· Swami Chidananda of Parmarth Niketan from Rishikesh: he wasn’t staying at the Guru Karishni Camp, but like many other sadhus, he visited to associate with prominent spiritual leaders. We had lunch together on two occasions. After I spoke to him about the glories of Srila Prabhupada, he offered to help renovate holy places in Vrindavan. He was especially eager to give money towards cleaning Radha Kunda so that pilgrims could drink the water from it, as well as establishing a large evening arotika on the banks of that sacred lake.

· Keshav Prasad Maurya, the deputy chief minister of UP: he had some misconceptions about our movement which I was happy to resolve to his full satisfaction.

· Swami Avdeshanand, the leader of one million Naga Babas and head of the Juna Akhada: Naga Babas (translated literally as “naked yogis”) are worshipers of Lord Siva. With their ash-covered bodies and matted dreadlocks, even their physique resembles his. They take vows of celibacy, renounce societal norms and live in the Himalayas. Swami Avdeshanand is such a respected leader that he is given the honor of being the first person to bathe at Kumbha Mela. After our talk he took my hand and said, “Your movement is creating a spiritual revolution all over the world!”

· Sri Rajendra Das Ji Maharaja, a well-known sadhu with a big ashram in Vrindavan: moved by Srila Prabhupada’s voyage to the USA and his introduction of Krsna consciousness in almost every country of the world, he invited me to visit him for lunch in Vrindavan.

· Lokesh Muni, leader of the Jains in India: this was the third time I have met him over the last few years. He invited me to spend time with him at his headquarters in Rajasthan.

Lost At The Mela

Going anywhere outside the Guru Karishni Camp was a challenge because there was a veritable flood of humanity outside its confines: an estimated 64 million people were descending upon the Mela to bathe on February 4th, the most auspicious bathing day.

I woke up early that morning which was an austerity in itself. It was mid-winter and it was cold in the tent where I was staying. I bathed quickly in an improvised bathroom which was without hot water, and then went out into the cold foggy morning.

“How in the world are 64 million people going to bathe along the river bank?” I wondered. And then a doubt entered my mind. “Will I actually be able to bathe in the river myself?”

The previous night I had searched the internet for all the information I could find on the three sacred rivers, the Ganges, Yamuna and Saraswati. A recent BBC article described the Ganges as the world’s sixth most polluted river. It said that 3,000 million liters of untreated sewage are pumped into the river every day; the figure didn’t include the industrial waste poured into the Ganges as it descends from the Himalayas to the Bay of Bengal. By the time it reaches Prayagraj, a town that also contributes untreated sewage to its waters, the Ganges, the article said, becomes a sewer.

The Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi, claimed that cleansing the Ganges was nothing less than a mission from God.

“Ma Ganga has called me,” he told the crowd at his victory celebration some years ago when he was swept to power in a landslide victory. “She has decided some responsibilities for me. Ma Ganga is screaming for help; she is saying ‘I hope one of my sons gets me out of this filth’. It is possible it has been decided by God for me to serve Ma Ganga.”

He pledged serious money to his Clean Ganga Mission – more than $3 billion dollars.

This was sobering and disturbing information. I turned away from Google to the Srimad Bhagavatam and the purports of my spiritual master for guidance. My doubts were resolved when I read this:

yat pada sevabhirucis tapasvinam
asesa janmopacitam malamdhiyah
aadyah ksinotyanvaham edhati sati
yatha padangustha vinihsrta sarit

“By the inclination to serve the lotus feet of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, suffering humanity can immediately cleanse the dirt which has accumulated in their minds during innumerable births. Like the Ganges water, which emanates from the toes of the lotus feet of the Lord, such a process immediately cleanses the mind, and thus spiritual or Krsna consciousness gradually increases.” [ Srimad Bhagavatam, 4.21.31 ]

In his purport, Srila Prabhupada writes:

“In India, one can actually see that a person who takes a bath in the Ganges waters daily is almost free from all kinds of diseases. A very respectable brahmana in Calcutta never took a doctor’s medicine. Even though he sometimes felt sick, he would not accept medicine from the physician but would simply drink Ganges water, and he was always cured within a very short time. The glories of Ganges water are known to Indians and to ourselves also. The river Ganges flows by Calcutta. Sometimes within the water there are many stools and other dirty things which are washed away from neighboring mills and factories, but still thousands of men take baths in the Ganges water, and they are very healthy as well as spiritually inclined. That is the effect of Ganges water. The Ganges is glorified because it emanates from the toes of the lotus feet of the Lord. Similarly, if one takes to the service of the lotus feet of the Lord, or takes to Krsna consciousness, he is immediately cleansed of the many dirty things which have accumulated in his innumerable births.”

Elsewhere, Rupa Goswami writes that the Ganges is always pure, regardless of its seeming pollution:

drstaih svabhava janitair vapusas ca dosair
na prakrtatvam iha bhakta janasya pasyet
gangambhasam na khalu budbuda phena pankair
brahma dravatvam apagacchati nira dharmaih

“Being situated in his original Krishna conscious position, a pure devotee does not identify with the body. Such a devotee should not be seen from a materialistic point of view. Indeed, one should overlook a devotee’s having a body born in a low family, a body with a bad complexion, a deformed body, or a diseased or infirm body. According to ordinary vision, such imperfections may seem prominent in the body of a pure devotee, but despite such seeming defects, the body of a pure devotee cannot be polluted. It is exactly like the waters of the Ganges, which sometimes during the rainy season are full of bubbles, foam and mud. The Ganges waters do not become polluted. Those who are advanced in spiritual understanding will bathe in the Ganges without considering the condition of the water.” [ Nectar of Instruction, Text 6 ]

Reading these instructions, I decided to follow the advice of my spiritual master and the Srimad Bhagavatam. I remembered a key verse:

yasya deve para bhaktir
yatha deve tatha gurau
tasyaite kathita hy arthah
prakasante mahatmanah

“Only unto one who has unflinching devotion to the Lord and to the spiritual master does transcendental knowledge become automatically revealed.” [ Svetasvatara Upanisad 6.23 ]

“I’m going,” I said to myself out loud, with full conviction. “Whatever it takes, I will bathe at the Triveni Sangam at the auspicious time.”

The arrangements to travel to the sangam were made by Pundrik Goswami.

“Maharaja,” he said to me, “you’ll come with me and the spiritual leaders in a van, and your assistants, Narottam das, Vikram and Kartamashi das, can go in another. It will take us around four hours to reach the sangam.”

“That’s a long time,” I said. “How far away is it?”

“It’s 12 kilometers from here,” Goswami said.

“So we’ll be traveling at a rate of three kilometers an hour?” I asked.

“Well, remember there are 64 million people vying for that little space at the sangam,” he said. “The police say that since midnight last night 32 million people have bathed. But we’ll make it. We have a police escort.”

I sat on the floor of the van, relinquishing the seats to six elderly sadhus who were joining us on the journey. Wanting to focus on the purpose of our journey, I read aloud the following verse from Caitanya Caritamrta:

mahattvam gangayah satatam idam abhati nitaram
yad esa sri visnos carana kamalotpatti subhaga
dvitiya sri laksmir iva sura narair arcya carana
bhavani bhartur ya sirasi vibhavaty adbhuta guna

“The greatness of mother Ganges always brilliantly exists. She is the most fortunate because she emanated from the lotus feet of Sri Visnu, the Personality of Godhead. She is a second goddess of fortune, and therefore she is always worshiped both by demigods and by humanity. Endowed with all wonderful qualities, she flourishes on the head of Lord Siva.” [ Caitanya Caritamrita, Adi Lila 16.41 ]

When the sadhus heard me chanting the Sanskrit glorifying Mother Ganges, they all smiled broadly.

“May Mother Ganges bless you today!” one said, placing his hand upon my hand.

Our van crawled through the dense crowds. Seeing the sadhus inside, people folded their hands in respect, and some touched the van and then touched their heads. When they saw me crouched on the floor of the van, many smiled and called out, “Hare Krsna!”

“You Western vaisnavas are keeping our spiritual culture alive,” one of the sadhus said to me.

We finally arrived at the river confluence hours later. The bank seethed as people tried to move towards the water while others tried to move back after bathing.

“Alright! We’re here!” Pundrik Goswami called. “Everybody out!”

I hesitated. “Out where?” I thought. There was not an inch of free ground.

I quickly changed into a small red gamcha (thin cotton waist towel) and slung a small towel around my neck. Kicking off my sandals, I grabbed my cell phone and placed it in a small plastic bag. “Just in case!” I thought. Finally, I tucked my bag containing my passport and money safely under the seat. For a moment I contemplated taking a sweater because it was so cold outside.

“No,” I decided. “I’ll just take the bare minimum. The river is only meters away and we’ll be back in a flash!”

Without warning, the sliding door I was leaning on opened and I fell out of the van and onto the ground.

“I’m going to get trampled!” I thought. The crowd surged over me and around me. I pushed myself upwards to gasp for air; all I could see was waves of people for kilometers in every direction. When I finally managed to steady myself on my feet, I saw I was 20 meters behind the sadhus. They were intrepidly pushing their way towards the water, the policemen guarding them on all sides. The crowd was squeezing me and it was hard to breathe.

“Wait for me!” I yelled, trying to recover the distance between us. My cries merged into the tumultuous noise created by the pilgrims as they strained forward to bathe in the nectar of immortality.

I managed to rejoin the sadhus just a few meters from the Triveni Sangam where the Ganges flows alongside the Yamuna and the mystical Saraswati River joins them from beneath the ground. We were also joined by Vikram and Kartamashi, who was trying to take photos in the midst of it all. His face was ashen.

“I thought I was going to be crushed to death!” he blurted out.

The roar of the crowd at the sangam was deafening as thousands of people simultaneously achieved their goal of bathing. Cries of “Ganga Ma ki jaya! All glories to Mother Ganges!” reverberated everywhere.

Far away in the river, separated from the throng, I saw a small group of four sadhus standing motionless in the water, their hands folded in prayer. Their long, matted hair was tied up in topknots on their heads. Though thin, they were not emaciated; in fact, they were effulgent, almost glowing. Seeing their gravity and obvious devotion, the hair on my arms stood up for a moment.

“That’s the mood I’m seeking,” I thought. I remembered a verse that encapsulated my aspirations:

tvayi me ‘nanya-visaya
matir madhu-pate ‘sakrt
ratim udvahatad addha
gangevaugham udanvati

“O Lord of Madhu, as the Ganges forever flows to the sea without hindrance, let my attraction be constantly drawn unto You without being diverted to anyone else.” [ Srimad Bhagavatam 1.8.42, “Prayers by Queen Kunti” ]

As if hearing the verse I had just remembered, the sadhus I was with sat down together to do puja, their attention single-pointed on the sacred sangam, oblivious to anyone else.

“Here and now?” I thought. I watched in disbelief as they took out all sorts of paraphernalia and, in a peaceful reverie, began offering arotik to the three rivers. Hundreds of people directly behind us were straining to see the sadhus do their puja, while the build-up of people further back caused the line to bulge. People fell to the ground because of the weight of the crowd behind them.

I heard Vikram calling, “Maharaja! Maharaja!” Over to my right, the intense pressure of the crowd was pulling him away. Then he simply disappeared into the mass of people.

Suddenly the crowd surged forward with such force that all of us were thrown into the river. I clutched my phone in the plastic bag as I fell into the cold water. I swam up to the surface, gasping for air. There was transcendental chaos everywhere as people splashed each other in great joy. The glorification of Mother Ganges reached a frantic pitch: “Ganga Ma ki jaya! Ganga Ma ki Jaya! Ganga Ma ki jaya!”

Surrendering to the moment and remembering the four effulgent sadhus, I stood with my hands folded and prayed to Mother Ganges for loving devotion to the Supreme Lord. Then, following the prescribed method for bathing, I dunked three times into the cold water. When I came up the last time, one blissful sadhu jumped on me and we both tumbled back into the water. Coming up, he again pulled me under, this time going deeper into the water. We splashed each other in great fun, and more sadhus joined our little melee.

“Maharaja,” I heard a voice shout. I saw Vikram swimming towards me. “I finally found you!” he said. “Our group is back on the bank of the river and is preparing to leave. You must come now.”

As I prepared to get out of the water I saw Kartamashi on the bank taking photos. I raised my arms in bliss, and he took a last photo before being pushed from behind. He and his camera just escaped falling into the river.

I glanced back to catch a last glimpse of the four sadhus. They were nowhere to be seen.

“How is that possible?” I wondered. “There’s no way they could have moved through all the people bathing in the sangam back to the bank. It’s very peculiar.” I remembered something I had read a few days before:

“Prabhupada said that although a number of the saints and sadhus present [at Kumbha Mela] were inauthentic, many were perfect yogis, some of them three and four hundred years old. These yogis, from remote parts of India, would come out for the Mela and then return to seclusion. ‘I have personally seen,’ he said, ‘that they take bath in the Ganges and come up in the seven sacred rivers! They go down in the Ganges and come up in the Godavari River. Then they go down and come up in the Krsna River, and go down, like that. The devotees, therefore, should respect everyone who attended the Mela.’” [Srila Prabhupada lilamrta, Volume 4, Every Town and Village]

It took me a good half an hour to make it back to the van. Somehow we had acquired a number of additional sadhus for the ride back to the camp, so I offered to ride in the smaller car with Narottam, Vikram and Kartamashi. Always concerned about my welfare, Pundrik Goswami reluctantly agreed. I started to push through the crowd away from the van when I realized I had forgotten my bag with my passport in it.

“I left my bag under the seat,” I called to Goswami. “I’ll get it when we’re back.”

“Sure, Maharaja,” he called. He held the bag up so I could see it. “I’ve got it.”

Confident that the smaller car was nearby, I made my way inch by inch to where I had seen it parked some distance away. But to my astonishment, it was gone. I made my way as quickly as I could back to where the van was parked, only to find it had left as well.

I stood there, momentarily bewildered. I was alone in a crowd of 64 million people, dressed only in a small wet gamcha with a damp towel around my neck. I had no dhoti, no kurta, no shoes, and, perhaps most alarmingly, no jacket to protect me from the cold. I had no clear idea where I was. All I knew was that the camp I was staying in was in Sector 7, and that that was 12 kilometers away. 12 kilometers through a mass of humanity pressing its way along the 300 kilometers of roads crisscrossing the Mela site. I had no map, and there were no signs giving directions in Hindi, much less English. I glanced at my watch. It was 4 p.m. and sunset was imminent.

Then I remembered I had my phone clutched in my hand. I unwrapped it from its plastic-bag covering and turned it on. To my dismay I saw there was no service available, and my battery had only 3 % left in it. I hurriedly turned it off.

“How in the world do people know where they’re going?” I wondered. Then, laughing to myself, I thought, “I’m probably the only person in this crowd of 64 million people who doesn’t know where he’s going!”

Knowing for sure that the direction to proceed was not behind me, I started walking forwards through the thick crowds surging towards the river. An hour later, I made it to a crossroads, turned left and began walking down a dirt road with a myriad of shops and ashrams on either side. Each ashram was festooned with colorful banners advertising the resident guru and his teachings. Speakers blared music from inside. As it was now getting dark, bright lights illuminated the temporary city built on the sandy banks of the Ganges.

People gawked at me curiously, and I understood why. I was the only white person to be seen, and I was practically naked. Several times I was approached by Naga-Babas who, thinking me to be one of them, pulled me into their tents and offered me a chillum of hashish to smoke! Each time I declined they seemed perplexed.

I knew I needed to get directions, but to my dismay I couldn’t find a single person who spoke English. There were many different languages being spoken around me because there were pilgrims from every part of India, but not one of those pilgrims was speaking English. There were policemen on every street corner, but they too could make no sense of what I was saying. On a couple of occasions, they literally pushed me away, apparently thinking me to be insane.

A real blow came when I heard a young Indian man say to his friend, “Isn’t that Indradyumna Swami?” But before I could say anything, his friend pulled him away saying, “Come on! Are you crazy? That’s not Indradyumna Swami!” They disappeared back into the crowd before I could confirm my identity and ask their help.

Every now and then I would turn my phone on to see if I was in range. Each time I wasn’t, and each time the battery drained a little more.

By 8:00 pm it was quite cold. From time to time when I got too cold to continue, I slipped into an ashram where a program was going on and sat amongst the crowd for warmth. On one occasion, while sitting in a chair and watching a bhajan on stage, I was approached by one of the ashram leaders.

“Are you in need of anything?” he asked.

“Yes!” I replied enthusiastically, surprised and relieved that I had found someone who spoke English. “I am lost in the Mela and trying to find my way back to my camp. It’s in Sector 7. Can you help me to get there? I have been wandering around for four hours now. Is it far away?”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “It’s about 12 kilometers away at the far end of the Mela site. At the moment you are 50 meters from the bathing spot at the sangam.”

My jaw dropped. I had walked in a big circle, coming back to the exact place I had started. The ashram leader could see my disappointment.

“Why don’t you rest here for a while?” he said. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thank you,” I said. Once I was wrapped in the blanket, I succumbed to my exhaustion and started to drift off to sleep in the chair. I awoke with a start when my entire body began to itch. The blanket was full of fleas and they were ruthlessly biting me. I threw the blanket to the side and quickly left the ashram, determined to reach my destination.

I started out in a different direction. Two hours later, around 10 p.m., I realized that I couldn’t keep going unless I had something to eat. I had learned the hard way not to eat food that I wasn’t 100% sure of in India, but this was an emergency. I joined a line of pilgrims waiting to be served prasadam at one of the food kitchens. It took 45 minutes for me to reach the front of the line. I was given a leaf plate and 2 leaf cups, and was served kichari, a subji, two warm chapatis and a cup of tea. Some smiling pilgrims waved at me to join them as they ate their meal in a circle on the ground. Several times I heard the word “Angreji” which means “English person”. They were kind and sympathetic to me, probably because of my paltry attire.

Hungry, cold and tired I devoured the prasadam. “This is some of the tastiest prasadam I ever had!” I thought, laughing to myself. Once I finished, I thanked the pilgrims and continued on my way with renewed vigor.

I began wondering what Pundrik Goswami, Narottam, Vikram and Kartamashi were thinking.

“Surely, they realized quite quickly that I had been left behind,” I thought. “They must be frustrated and worried, being unable to contact me or find me. But actually, I’m fine,” I realized. “There’s no real danger and it’s only a matter of time until I get back to the camp, whether it’s today or tomorrow. And I am meeting so many nice people! Krsna played a little trick on me just so I can see how the mass of people experience Kumbha Mela. He’s also teaching me how to fully depend on Him. Wonderful!”

Just then I felt a rock whiz past my ear. Then another and another. Looking back I saw a group of children laughing at me.

“Pagal baba! Pagal baba! Pagal baba!” they yelled. I knew the what the phrase meant: “Crazy sadhu!”

I walked quickly away but they followed me and continued throwing stones.

“I can’t blame them,” I thought. “I must look pretty crazy—a barefoot white guy with a dishelved sikha wandering around half naked.” Then one of the rocks hit my elbow causing me to yell out in pain. A policeman saw what was happening and yelled at the group of children to leave me alone. Then he came over and spoke to me in Hindi.

“No Hindi,” I said. “English.” I got down on my hands and knees and wrote “Sector 7” in big letters in the sand.

“There,” I said, pointing. “I need to go there.”

He looked puzzled and took me by the arm to an ashram just a few meters away. He sat me down on a mat and disappeared. Ten minutes later he came back with a man who offered me a hot cup of tea. I gladly accepted it and then both of them went on their ways. I curled up on the mat and fell asleep. When I jolted awake, I checked my watch; I’d slept for 10 minutes. I got up and continued on my way, first checking to make sure the group of children was not around.

At 11:30 p.m. I checked my cell phone again. I was in range! But I was alarmed to see there was only 1 % battery power left.

“I have enough power for one phone call,” I thought. “If the person doesn’t answer, I won’t be seeing any of my friends tonight.”

I choose to call Narottam. He picked up immediately.

“Hello! Hello! Gurudeva, is that you? Hello?” Narottam sounded both excited and worried.

“Yes, it’s me!” I said.

“Good Lord! We’ve been so worried. What happened? Where are you? I’ve been out looking for you for hours!”

“I’m not sure where I am,” I said. “I’ve been walking around in circles since we were separated. But I’m fine. Just a little cold and tired. Can you find a car and come to collect me?”

“It’s almost impossible to find a car at this hour, but I’ll try,” he said. “The main thing is that we need to figure out where you are.” He was silent for a moment, thinking. “OK, here’s an idea. Take a photo of where you are and send it to me on WhatsApp. I’ll go to a police station and ask for their help in finding your location.”

“Brilliant idea!” I said. And without even saying goodbye I hung up and quickly took a picture of the scene in front of me. I sent the photo on WhatsApp and my phone immediately died.

It took Narottam just 30 minutes to find me. It turned out that his search had led him quite close to where I was, and the nearby police kiosk was quickly able to identify the junction where I was waiting. When he finally arrived, I jumped into the car and sat as close as I could to the heat coming out of the vents on the dashboard. Just as the car was pulling away there was a loud bang and it stopped in its tracks.

“What was that?” Narottam asked.

“The driver dropped his transmission,” I said with a wry smile.

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, it means we aren’t going anywhere in this car,” I said, getting out.

“Now what?” Narottam asked.

“Lots of walking!” I said. “Let’s go!”

“Where are we going?” he said.

“Sector 7 of course!” I replied.

With Narottam at my side, we were in a much better position to make it back to our camp, simply because he speaks Hindi. He asked people for the directions to Sector 7 and after a short time he had a good idea how to get there.

“How long will it take to walk there?” I asked.

“Through this crowd,” he replied, “Maybe 2 or 3 more hours.”

I looked at my watch. It was 12 p.m. For the first time that day I became a bit despondent.

And then a taxi came around the corner.

“Narottam, stop that taxi!” I yelled. He literally jumped in front of the taxi, surprising the driver, who screamed at him in Hindi.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He said he’s not working now. No way.”

“Yes, he is,” I said. “Give me 1000 rupees.”

I opened the back door of the taxi and jumped in. The taxi driver looked shocked.

“Out!” he screamed in Hindi.

“Bhai sabh, brother!” I said. “This is for your trouble.”

He smiled when he saw the money. “No problem!” he said in English.

At 1 a.m. we pulled into our camp. Everyone was fast asleep, but I saw the light was still on in Pundrik Goswami’s room. I knew he would be worried about me. His eyes opened wide when he saw me standing there barefoot in my red gamcha, the cold wet towel still around my neck.

“Maharaja, I am so sorry!” he said.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” I said with a big smile. “Tonight, I experienced Kumbha Mela first hand, much like Hiuen Tsiang from China probably did in the 7th century. But whereas he walked amongst half a million people for 75 days, I walked amongst 64 million people for 9 hours. It was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life!”

We left the Mela around noon that day. When we drove out of our camp, I was surprised to see the streets were mostly deserted.

“Where is everyone?” I asked Narottam.

“Many of the people you saw yesterday came just to bathe in the sangam,” he said. “The majority were leaving on foot late last night when I was looking for you. More people will come again for other important bathing days in the next few weeks. Did you enjoy your visit, Gurudeva?”

“It was most satisfying,” I replied. “I feel as though the sadhu’s benediction upon me has come to pass, for I indeed feel as though Mother Ganges has blessed me. I was able to bathe in the Triveni Sangam in the association of advanced souls at the most auspicious moment to occur in 200 years. I spent time with the masses and, most importantly, I was able to share Krsna consciousness with a number of important spiritual leaders of the country. I feel very fortunate to have visited this sacred place on such an auspicious occasion.”


“There are several places in India. One of them is this Naimisaranya and another very important place is called Prayaga, generally known as Allahabad. But the original name is Prayaga. That is considered to be one of the most sacred places in India. Still every year there is a fair called Magha-Mela. Magha means during the month of January, February, a fair takes place in which all the sages, saintly persons, come from all over parts of India. They gather and take their bath at the confluence of Ganga and Yamuna. That is a very nice place. If you visit India, you should see all these nice places.”

[ Srila Prabhupada lecture, Srimad Bhagavatam 1.2.6. London, August 26, 1971 ]

The Path to Attaining the Mercy of Lord Nityananda / Путь обретения милости Господа Нитьянанды

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“Нитьянанду Прабху могли оскорбить, однако Он приблизился к Джагаю и Мадхаю и, конечно же, освободил их. Мир полон джагаями и мадхаями – пьяницами, охотниками за женщинами, мясоедами и картежниками – и мы должны будем приближаться к ним, рискуя быть в награду оскорбленными, побитыми или еще что-нибудь эдакое. Сталкиваться с такими превратностями жизни и терпеть результаты действий считается величайшей аскезой и епитимьей в деле духовного продвижения общества”.

[ письмо Шрилы Прабхупады от 27 января 1970 ]


“Nityananda Prabhu approached Jagai and Madhai at the risk of being personally injured and still He definitely delivered them. The world is full of Jagai’s and Madhai’s; namely drunkards, women-hunters, meat eaters, and gamblers, and we will have to approach them at the risk of insult, injury, and similar other rewards. To face such reverse conditions of life and to suffer thereby the results of actions is considered as the greatest penance and austerity in the matter of spiritual advancement of life.”
[ Srila Prabhupada letter, January 27, 1970 ]


Скрытое благословение

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Том 10, глава 7
1 июня 2009


В начале июня я прилетел в Санкт-Петербург, один из последних городов моего проповеднического тура по России. У Санкт-Петербурга богатая история и культура. Основанный царем Петром I в 1703 году, он являлся столицей Российской империи более 200 лет. Это одно из моих самых любимых мест бывшего Советского Союза, и наше движение там широко представлено. Преданные регулярно устраивают харинамы, распространяют книги, и каждый год проводят Ратха-ятру, собирая хорошие отзывы в средствах массовой информации. Из-за событий в 1990-х преданные потеряли красивый храм, но они еженедельно собираются в зале Дома культуры в центре города и надеются купить собственную землю.

Пока мы ехали на программу, я не мог не восхищаться архитектурой города, парками и каналами. Но я знал, что большая часть всего этого великолепия была восстановлена. Во время Второй мировой войны Санкт-Петербург, в то время Ленинград, 900 дней держали в блокаде немецкие войска. Более миллиона людей погибло, в основном от голода и бомбежек. Сейчас здесь много памятников солдатам и жителям, погибшим при защите города. Для меня это напоминание: нужно срочно распространять сознание Кришны, поскольку история имеет обыкновение повторяться.

Многие из моих первых учеников – из Санкт-Петербурга, и каждый раз, когда я приезжаю сюда, я справляюсь об их благополучии. Прошло уже много лет с моего последнего визита, и я вместе с Уттама-шлокой дасом и лидером ятры Ачьютатмой дасом, просматривал список своих учеников, когда вдруг наткнулся на имя Кришна-дживани даси.

– Я шесть лет ничего не слышал о Кришна-дживани, – сказал я Ачьютатме. – Она была моим секретарем в России в начале 1990-х. Она и ее мать, Дхара даси – мои ученицы, и в 2004-м я взял их в Индию на парикрамы во время Картики. В то время Кришна-дживани едва могла ходить из-за болезни, перенесённой в предыдущие годы. Где она сейчас?

– Иногда ее мать приходит на программы, – сказал Ачьютатма, – но Кришна-дживани мы не видим. Они живут вместе, но Кришна-дживани сейчас не может ходить, поэтому она никогда не покидает пределов квартиры. Иногда преданные навещают ее, но в основном она ведет затворнический образ жизни. Они живут довольно бедно на небольшую государственную пенсию.

В этот момент мы подъехали к Дому культуры. Большая группа преданных встречала нас киртаном. Я вышел из машины, помахал всем рукой и с удивлением увидел подходящую ко мне Дхару.

– Добро пожаловать снова в Санкт-Петербург, Гуру Махараджа, – сказала она, протягивая мне букет цветов и конверт.

– Дхара, мы только что говорили о тебе, – сказал я, и передал подарки Уттама-шлоке. – Как ты?

– Я уже совсем старая, – ответила она. – Мне 83, если точнее.

– А как дела у Кришна-дживани? – спросил я. – Я уже очень давно о ней ничего не слышал.

Лицо Дхары стало серьезным.

– Ей 54 года, – ответила Дхара, – и уже шесть лет она не выходила из дому.

Я отпрянул.

– Шесть лет? – удивился я.

На глаза Дхары навернулись слезы.

– Да, – кивнула она, – шесть лет, сейчас она совсем не может ходить.

– Мне очень жаль, – сказал я и дал знак Уттама-шлоке записать их адрес.

– Мы заедем к вам завтра после обеда, – пообещал я.

Лицо Дхары просияло.

– Большое спасибо, – сказала она.

Программа прошла замечательно. Более пятисот преданных слушали лекцию, а затем воодушевленно танцевали в киртане. Я был очень рад снова быть в Петербурге, но по пути назад на квартиру я думал только о Дхаре и Кришна-дживани.

“Должно быть, им приходится нелегко, – думал я. – Они бедны, одна из них уже в преклонном возрасте, а другая инвалид, и они живут в маленькой квартире. Боже мой!”

Тут я вспомнил о конверте.

– Уттама-шлока, – попросил я, – не мог бы ты перевести мне письмо Дхары и Кришна-дживани?

Он распечатал конверт.

– Гуру Махараджа! – воскликнул он. – Здесь несколько тысяч долларов!

– Не может быть, – не поверил я. – У них же почти нет денег.

Уттама-шлока покачал головой.

– Я не знаю, – ответил он. – Спросите их завтра об этом.

На следующий день после обеда мы поехали навестить Дхару и Кришна-дживани.

– Возьми банку меда, – сказал я Уттама-шлоке, – и несколько сладких шариков,которые преданные дали мне вчера. А также пакет молока в холодильнике и йогурт. А еще набор ручек и карандашей, который мне вчера подарили. Запакуй это красиво.

По дороге я готовился к нашей встрече, которая должна была стать для меня «холодным душем». Первое потрясение я испытал, когда мы припарковались перед их домом.

– Вы только посмотрите, – сказал Махаван дас. – Как все запущено.

– Слушайте, парни, – сказал я, – я хочу, чтобы вы излучали только положительные эмоции, пока мы там будем. Не поддавайтесь унынию. Мы здесь, чтобы поддержать их и приободрить.

– Хорошо, Гуру Махараджа, – ответил Махаван.

Лифт не работал, и нам пришлось подниматься на пятый этаж по лестнице грязного вонючего подъезда с исписанными стенами. Когда мы подошли к дверям, я взял себя в руки и постучал.

– Входите, – угрюмо сказала Дхара.

Мы разулись в тускло освещенной прихожей.

– Где Кришна-дживани? – прошептал я.

– Пойдемте, – ответила Дхара.

Мы вошли в единственную в квартире комнату, наши глаза привыкали к неяркому свету, который пробивался сквозь тюль на окне. В комнате было лишь несколько предметов мебели, но было безукоризненно чисто. Большая ваза с цветами, шикарно выглядевшая в этой простой обстановке, стояла рядом с маленьким алтарем, на котором были только изображения Господа. В конце концов, мои глаза остановились на одинокой фигуре, сидевшей на полу и погруженной в воспевание святых имен.

– Кришна-дживани, – тихо позвал я. – Это ты?

Кришна-дживани подняла голову, посмотрела на меня, и ее лицо осветилось улыбкой. На мгновение я отпрянул. Я не ожидал этого. Она выглядела умиротворенной, спокойно сидела в простом сари без косметики и украшений. Ее волосы были коротко острижены.

– Она не может поклониться, – пояснила Дхара. – Из-за ног.

– Мама, все в порядке, – сказала Кришна-дживани, мягко успокаивая Дхару.

Она сложила ладони и опустила голову, предлагая мне свои поклоны.

– Я был очень опечален, услышав о твоем состоянии, – начал я.

– Здесь не о чем сожалеть, Гуру Махараджа, – ответила она с той же сияющей улыбкой. – Я в порядке.

– Но я вижу, что ты практически беспомощна, – не согласился я.

– Это не проблема, – ответила она. – Зато у меня больше времени на воспевание.

– Что ж, – произнес я, подбирая нужные слова для продолжения разговора, – чем ты занимаешься?

– Я повторяю мантру, – ответила она.

– Я имею в виду, что ты делаешь, после того как прочитаешь свои 16 кругов?

– Продолжаю повторять мантру, – ответила она.

– Она повторяет Харе Кришна день и ночь, – объяснила Дхара. – И спит только два-три часа в сутки. А если не воспевает, то читает книги Шрилы Прабхупады или Шиварамы Свами.

– Понятно, – сказал я. Я был потрясен тем, как она смогла обернуть свое несчастье себе на пользу.

Кришна-дживани немного покраснела.

– Мама, – попросила она, – пожалуйста, перестань.

– Он наш гурудева, – сказала Дхара, – он имеет право знать, как ты живешь.

Кришна-дживани кивнула в знак согласия.

– Она очень аскетична, – продолжала Дхара. – Ест где-то раз в два дня, и только тарелку овсяной каши.

Мои брови поползли вверх.

– Она всегда была такой, – продолжала Дхара. – Когда она была маленькой девочкой, я давала им с сестрой печенье. Сестра всегда выхватывала у меня из рук, а Кришна-дживани? Она хотела только овсянку без сахара. Часто она ела сухой овес или гречку. Моя маленькая девочка!

Кришна-дживани улыбнулась.

– Она никогда не просила игрушек и всегда донашивала одежду за сестрой. Когда ей исполнилось три года, она начала петь песни на непонятном для нас языке. Однажды к нам домой пришел профессор-лингвист, он остолбенел, когда услышал, что она поет. «Это же стихи на санскрите!» – воскликнул он.

– Она всегда просыпалась рано, задолго до рассвета, и принимала холодный душ. И до сих пор принимает холодный душ, даже зимой. Когда она болеет, то набирает в ванну ледяной воды и лежит там часами.

– Она была необычной девочкой, никогда не общалась с мальчиками и тщательно выбирала себе друзей. Когда она выросла, то поступила в университет сразу на три факультета: медицинский, испанский и английский языки – и успешно закончила их.

– Она никогда не была замужем. Став квалифицированным специалистом, четырнадцать лет проработала врачом. В 1991-м во время прогулки она встретила преданного, который распространял книги Шрилы Прабхупады. Она хотела купить одну, но у нее не было денег. Она вернулась домой, взяла деньги и пошла назад, чтобы купить книги, но преданный уже ушел. Три дня подряд она искала его, но не нашла.

– Однажды ее брат взял у своего друга книги Шрилы Прабхупады. Он принес их домой, она тут же схватила их и начала читать. На следующее утро она начала повторять 16 кругов Харе Кришна, а через неделю ушла жить в храм, и все это время продолжала работать.

– А через шесть месяцев вы приехали в Санкт-Петербург и дали ей посвящение. В 1993 она оставила карьеру врача и стала вашим секретарем в России – переводила ваши письма русским ученикам.

– Удивительно, – сказал я. – Я никогда не слышал, как жила Кришна-дживани до того как стала преданной.

– Она не любит говорить о себе, – пояснила Дхара. – Да и с кем ей говорить? Вот уже шесть лет она просто сидит здесь и повторяет мантру по двадцать часов в сутки. Это то, что мы все хотели бы делать однажды. Но я беспокоюсь за нее. Когда вы взяли нас в Индию, у нее уже были проблемы с ногами, а когда мы вернулись, все стало гораздо хуже.

Я посмотрел на Кришна-дживани.

– Я горжусь ею, – сказал я. – Такая проблема заставила бы более слабого преданного утонуть в скорби и невежестве. Но для нее это стало скрытым благословением. Она мудро использует свое время, повторяя святые имена. Однажды Шрила Прабхупада посетил одну свою ученицу в бомбейской больнице. Девушка подхватила одну из тропических болезней и целыми днями напролет сидела на кровати и повторяла мантру. Когда Шрила Прабхупада пришел к ней, она извинилась перед ним за то, что не может выполнять никакого служения, кроме повторения мантры. Шрила Прабхупада сказал: «На самом деле, наша цель – повторять святые имена непрерывно. Это самый лучший способ прославить Господа. Но поскольку вы, юноши и девушки запада, очень беспокойны, мне приходится придумывать для вас столько разного служения».

Я достал конверт с их пожертвованием. Я думал о том, как им приходилось экономить копейку к копейке на протяжении многих лет, чтобы скопить эту сумму, поэтому хотел их вернуть.

Когда Дхара увидела конверт, она забеспокоилась и посмотрела на меня, как бы говоря: «Вы же не собираетесь отдать его нам? Это наше преданное служение вам».

Я убрал конверт обратно в карман. И пообещал себе потратить эти деньги на какой-нибудь особый проповеднический проект.

Время уже поджимало, и нам надо было ехать на программу.

– Мне нужно идти, – с грустью сказал я, – но этот визит меня вдохновил. Ничто так не вдохновляет духовного учителя, как ученик, совершающий реальный прогресс в сознании Кришны. Кришна-дживани, ты подаешь удивительный пример всем нам. Могу ли я что-нибудь сделать для тебя?

– Вы уже делаете для меня все, что нужно, – ответила она. – Пожалуйста, просто благословите меня, чтобы я повторяла святые имена чисто. Это все, чего я хочу.

Как только мы тронулись, её рука уже снова была в мешочке с четками, глаза закрыты, и она стала тихо повторять святые имена с большим вниманием. Когда я выходил за дверь, она протянула мне сложенный лист бумаги.

– Гурудева, – сказала она, – это письмо вам.

Мы вышли за дверь на лестничную площадку и оказались в совершенно другом мире. Пока мы осторожно спускались по темной лестнице, Уттама-шлока повернулся ко мне:

– Гуру Махараджа, я знаю немногих преданных способных делать то, что делает она. Откуда у нее такая решимость?

Я задумался на секунду:

– В Бхагавад-гите Кришна описывает, что происходит с йогом, не достигшим успеха, в следующей жизни:

татра там буддхи-самйогам
лабхате паурва-дехикам
йатате ча тато бхуйах
самсиддхау куру-нандана

Родившись в такой семье, он возрождает божественное сознание своей предыдущей жизни и пытается пойти дальше и достичь полного успеха, чтобы достичь совершенства, о сын Куру.

– Ее решимость проистекает из прошлой жизни и сильного желания вернуться обратно к Богу в этой жизни.

Когда мы сели в машину, Махаван повернулся ко мне.

– Гуру Махараджа, как вы думаете, у нее получится? – спросил он.

– У нее есть все шансы, – ответил я.

Мы тронулись, я развернул письмо, которое она дала мне, просмотрел его и решил зачитать вслух.

– Парни, – сказал я, – слушайте и мотайте на ус. Вот искренность, необходимая для достижения цели жизни.

Я начал читать:

«Мой дорогой духовный учитель,

Пожалуйста, примите мои смиренные поклоны. Слава Шриле Прабхупаде. Слава Вам.

Я счастлива в сознании Кришны. С каждым восходом и закатом солнца я приближаюсь к цели своей жизни. Я постоянно благодарю Кришну за то, что Он позволил мне встретиться в этой жизни с книгами Шрилы Прабхупады и моим вечным духовным учителем. И что самое важное, в этот последний период жизненного пути Он убрал все лишнее и дал мне все возможности полностью погрузиться в воспевание Его святых имен. Я молюсь, чтобы в этот раз не упустить шанс и добиться успеха в этой жизни.

Харе Кришна.

Ваша вечная слуга,
Кришна-дживани даси»